


In The Lake

by craigstalldaddy



Category: South Park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craigstalldaddy/pseuds/craigstalldaddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story, When Kenny asks Kyle for his affection and remembrance, Kyle begins to drift away, ignoring him and giving him the cold shoulder. At this, Kenny's troubled manner leads him to do something most drastic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Lake

There was once a young man named Kenny. He had feathery hair of dirty yellow and a freckled, pale face. He was a quiet young man, who so much enjoyed quietly following his friends on an adventure. He was not so much as shy, just simply quiet.

                Kenny had a loving companion, one of whom he loved very dearly. His name was Kyle, a young man his age with wild curls of auburn. His home was something Kenny marveled, but not for its design or spaciousness, but for what sat behind it. Behind his house sat a small, shallow lake, just deep enough for the petite Kenny to swim in. As the two were such good friends, they'd often spend time together, and so much of the visits to Kyle's home would lead to them sitting, playing, and eating at the lake. However, Kyle could never see why he liked the lake so much, for it was a simple lake, and the water was always cold - even in the summer. Regardless, Kenny loved it almost as dearly as he loved Kyle.

                One day, when Kenny had felt as though he could trust his companion with his life, he decided to make a promise with him. He asked him friend, "Dearest Kyle, you love me, correct?"

                Kyle said that he most certainly did.

                "And so," continued he, "Would you do anything for me?"

                Kyle said that he most certainly would.

                "Promise me, then, that you will try your hardest to realise that I am a weak man. I'll require you to always remember me, and remember to help me in the aspects of which I fail."

                Kyle promised, and they sealed it with a tender, friendly hug.

                A following week arrived, and Kenny asked his dear friend if they may join at the lake the following day?

                Kyle told him apologetically, "I'm busy then."

                Kenny frowned, but dismissed his disappointment, and asked him when he'd be available.

                "I don't know," said Kyle, and Kenny took the hint, and said no more.

                Regardless of Kyle's busy-being, he sent Kenny messages often through phone. Whenever he was asked what he was doing, he'd say something like, "Cleaning," or "cooking". Kenny never pressed any further.

Three weeks later, Kenny became aware of a party that was to be thrown by Kyle. Everyone was invited – Kyle’s friends, Kenny’s friends, even Kenny himself! O how excited he was! He could not wait until he could rejoice with all of his companions happily. But then, with a pain comparable to that of being hit by a truck, he became aware of his leaving to go out of town on the day of his friend’s party. He told Kyle the news sadly, receiving a half-pitiful “That sucks” from his companion. For a whole two weeks, Kenny was subject to listening to the excited babbling of the event. He heard the planning, he heard his companions rejoice in excitement. With misery, he was forced to tell all of the partygoers-to-be of his foretold absence, and every time he received a half-pitiful “Too bad.”

He wished not be burdening, however. He knew he could ask neither event to reschedule, nor could he simply skip his expensive trip out of town, for he was poor, and he had to visit his family on this trip.

On his trip, he tried not to be bitter or in bad spirits. He acted happily and tried not to think of the fun his friends were having.  He tried to lie to himself, saying that it was probably for the best, and such a large crowd would make him agitated.

When he returned, his friends were raving of the fun they had. They dared to tell Kenny how much fun they had, and how they “wished you were there”. They dared to reminisce right before him, as if he had been there, or as if he didn’t care. It made his chest feel hollow with only the drops of his melancholy to fill it. Still, he tried to be polite. He smiled and told his friends the truth, “Yeah I wish I could have been there, too.”

Kyle, however, had not cut off his companion completely. One fine afternoon, Kenny was invited over to his home. Kenny was ecstatic, and agreed without a second thought. When the two were together, they sat beside the lake and chattered aimlessly. Kenny explained to his friend with great enthusiasm how glad he was to finally have some time with him, to which he agreed calmly, with a smile. Kenny asked his companion if he’d like to partake in swimming in the lake with him, but Kyle subtly denied him, and told him he’d enjoy this day more if he stayed dry. Kenny understood, and stayed with his greatest friend upon the bank of the lake.

Only a few days later, when the friends had plans to dine together, Kyle admitted to being plagued by a tired mood. Kenny assured him of his sympathy, but found himself feeling miserable as his friend could only hang his head and doze through their dinner. He asked his friend if he would cheer up, but Kyle said naught, and kept his exhausted way.

“I’d be home sleeping right now,” said Kyle as they finished their meals, “But I couldn’t stay at home.”

“Why not?” asked Kenny, offended.

“My mother wanted me to get out,” said Kyle.

“Oh,” said Kenny, lowering his head and feeling his heart thump sorrowfully.

For the following month, at every occasion the gentlemen would see each other, Kyle would hold the same attitude. Whenever Kenny would ask, he’d get the same answer – Kyle was tired. He would always make sure his friend was getting appropriate rest, asking him when he went to bed and how early he awoke, but every time he asked, he’d find that only healthy habits resided with his friend. One day, he suggested that, perhaps, he was sleeping too much? Kyle replied simply with, “Yeah, maybe.” Then, Kenny asked if Kyle was depressed? Kyle replied with, “No, I’m just tired.”

                Kyle’s negative emotions were matched by Kenny, for he was, indeed a troubled man, still. But, no matter how troubled he felt, he could not bring himself to seek a shoulder from his tired friend. Even when he tried, however, he could never reach him. This, unfortunately, only brought more misery upon his thin shoulders, and he was plagued by the conflicting reasoning that littered his mind. He knew it was more than likely that friend was, in fact, just tired, and it was not at all his fault. However, he could not ignore the melancholy words that echoed within his head, telling his bitterly that his friend was avoiding him, that he didn’t like his company, that he thought he was boring, that he was _lying_ about simply being tired. With these thoughts in his head, Kenny felt himself fall miserable.

                One day, Kenny stopped receiving invitations to be with his companion. Calls stopped, letters never came, nothing. This continued for weeks, until eventually Kenny began to assume the worst. With these assumptions wild in his troubled mind, he hurried to his companion's home. When Kyle's mother answered the door, Kenny was vivacious in asking of her son's health.

                "He's very well," said she.

                "Where is he?" asked Kenny.

                "He's out with his friend. I think he mentioned his best friend," said she.

                At her words, Kenny felt his heart sink deep down in his stomach. With great sorrow, he thanked her, and told her to not bother her son with the knowledge of his visit. She asked him if anything was wrong, but he somberly told her he was fine.

                He made a slow way home, locking himself within his chambers and crying horribly into his pillow. He wondered, at what point had he gone wrong? He remembered, Kyle had always been such a good friend. He had once been able to find him any moment he needed him. He had once been able to be with him, to play with him, to be honest with him. In his troubled mind, he thought long and hard. What would have caused this? He blamed himself. He told himself that he had done something wrong. But then, he thought again, why would such a person forsake a good man in need of assistance? Kyle was well aware of Kenny's disturbance and anxieties. He could not help but also blame Kyle.

                In a deep fit of emotion, Kenny went to his desk. He wrote a note, one he intended to be quick. But, as his pen scribbled against the stationary, he could feel a great rage beat within him. All his words became angry and full of blame. His words were full of hate, and the pen pressed with great emotion. When tears were streaming from his face and his fingers were black with ink, he threw his pen down and took his paper.

                With a heart full of misery and spite, he returned to Kyle's house. He left his note upon the doorstep, but then made a slow pace to the back. He stood before the lake, gazing at his reflection with desolation. His face was red, his hair disheveled. He looked away, gazing back at his friend's home. He looked back, and plunged himself in the water. The water, cool and clear, washed away the ink upon his fingertips like it washed away his sorrows. He felt more tears attempt to make surface, but lose their form against the water. Sobbing, he fought his instinct, and kept himself underneath. He grew numb, his vision darkened. So soon, so painfully, he succeeded as he slowly dropped to the bottom of the lake, never to breathe again.


End file.
